


Temptation

by Kim_Kardashian



Series: Candor [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Introspection, M/M, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kim_Kardashian/pseuds/Kim_Kardashian
Summary: Yuuri was free, a roaming alpha with no mate, no heart that belonged to him.Viktor wanted to be his.





	

  _No tale is more compelling than one that never ends_

* * *

 

There was this certain birth mark that bothered him, every single time he saw it. It was so out of place, so unnecessary. It marred the entire canvas, ruined it all. It's as unwelcome as a brown dot on a perfectly yellow banana, but could he do anything about it? No. He couldn't, just like he couldn't tear his eyes away from the very person who had that terrible disfigurement. This man's dominance was absolute mercury, maddening with time and blindingly promising for something bittersweet. How he hated to look at him be so...duplicitous. Meek and at times submissive, but rearing his head and brandishing his strength so unexpectedly that his scent caused an inkling of foreboding even in his own throat. Although feminine, so pungent, so present.

So beautiful. Viktor knew he was a man of strength, and not because he was already on the highest pedestal society allowed, that _nature_ had allowed. As an alpha, he knew he was entitled to look forward, never back, look down, never up, eyes commanding, never submitting. But he respected the foreign strength and beauty others had to offer, to highlight the virtues of their personhood. Ice skating was the gateway to release the unspoken words that remained in his throat, never bold enough even as an alpha, to declare. Words were inadequate to express what he had to say, and his dominance on the ice was so overpowering the audience never knew how to sit. Should they squirm? And submit to the beautiful performance Viktor Nikiforov choreographed, just for them? Or should they break away, and see Viktor in his raw, unapologetic nature regardless of the consequences?

Perhaps he was meant to only speak through music and the art of the body, _his_ body, because he knew what reasons he had for every move, every glance, every note.

The feeling of yearning barely tickled his chest, was so alien, so foreign, that when he experienced it for the second time in his existence, he did not know what to do with himself. He remembered taking extravagant measures to dispel it, but he channeled it into his programs. But it wasn't enough, the feeling wouldn't ebb, would subside for a while, never quite contained.

It would be easy to blame it on his nature. An alpha has the craving to dominate, to overpower, but also nurture and pamper. Of course those urges came when his body, not his mind, recognized that floral scent. His body knew best, it seemed, it recognized the jasmine, the sweat of exertion, and the worst thing, well, his body would _respond_. Respond, his chest would feel pressure and his knees would buckle, his mind entranced in this inescapable labyrinth.

The first time he looked at Yuuri, he believed him to be an omega, a beta perhaps. With that amiable stare that promised nothing but genuine sincerity, do not even get him started on that voice. That voice was absolutely indescribable, nothing sweet would suffice to explain. But he was mistaken, everyone was. Yuuri Katsuki was not an omega, was not a beta. He, like Viktor and many other skaters, was an alpha himself. Never once did Viktor misidentify someone. An alpha cannot simply smell that...sweet. Or look it for the matter.

The evening had gone fairly well. After the competition, the decision to congregate at a restaurant was made, its rave reviews on its Portuguese cuisine made it a must go. Viktor decided that this was the night, the moment he would whisk Yuuri away into a bout of friendship. Although the man had the most kind hearted smile, simply approaching him was not possible. From the amount of times he's observed him, he knows Yuuri to be skittish by nature. Not because he was afraid. He genuinely did not like people or interacting with them. And Viktor _loved_ , but hated that. How can a person look so friendly and open but be so reserved? It wasn't until Phichit Chulanont passed him that his blood bathed itself in an icy shroud of rage. Phichit was an omega, but his scent had slight tarnishes of jasmine, that floral scent that could only belong to Yuuri. But Phichit only laughed, must have detected the change in his expression, one of mild distaste, and explained that it was simply for protection. After all, an omega cannot wander in the streets of a foreign country and not expect someone to be quite unabashed in their advances. Especially if you're a world famous figure skater.

To acknowledge that Yuuri willingly scent marked him, willingly nuzzled close to this man, this omega to protect him, was unacceptable. The smell wasn't meant to ward anyone off, it simply said that this omega was taken, please do not touch. The “please” was so like him, that when the devil himself showed up, cheeks baby pink from the cold, hands rubbing furiously, and glasses askew that he wanted to know what Yuuri was thinking. But he supposed his body took care of that already because Yuuri's stare glued itself to him for the very first time. He had Yuuri's undivided attention, but Yuuri only bowed his head and proceeded to seat himself next to Phichit without so much as a dismissive smile. Viktor knew his own scent could be overbearing, but he hadn't meant to push him away.

The only person who noticed his persistent attempts to be noticed was Christophe. It would seem laughable that Viktor Nikiforov was _attempting_ to be noticed since his very existence embodied the spotlight, but Yuuri wouldn't budge. Would not falter or spare him a glance, only sharing his laughter and extremely rare smiles with Phichit. What would it take to become friends? Or simply acquaintances. After all, he was an alpha, he should not be grasping at straws to be acknowledged. But he was, and would have socked Yurio for mocking his foolish “alpha piggy crush.” Yuuri's beauty mark was the first feature he noticed, glaring at him the entire time. Shaped like a sunflower, a vibrant red. Placed on the curve of his throat, which meant he hasn't been claimed. Yuuri was _free_ , a roaming alpha with no mate, no heart that belonged to him.

If only it disappeared, just for closure, for this manifestation to disappear. You cannot love or yearn for someone whose heart is unavailable. Viktor's own was intact, hidden from the world on his chest. His private shame. Every bite taken from his meal seemed bland, the dull chatter did not stop, and Yuuri did not look at him for the rest of the night.

-

Nothing festered itself as quickly as that passion he had. And when he scrolled through his notifications, an article declaring the worst news he's ever laid his eyes upon.

_"Yuuri Katsuki, age 24 and two-time gold medal ice skating champion has declared this season to be his last. He has decided to settle in his hometown with his dog, Viichan. Katsuki has provided no further comment. Read the full interview here." _

The word “no” crossed his mind. Many thoughts crossed his mind, actually, but none of them seeped with reason. In fact, a trip to Japan was well overdue. It occurred to him that he never had a plan if Yuuri decided to step away from the only connection they had. If skating did not exist, what gateway did he have? Makkachin's gaze bore into him, innocent to Viktor's dilemma. But he bought the plane ticket anyway, brushed up on his Japanese, and stood in Hasetsu's train station. Posters of Yuuri only soothed his senses, but until the scent of jasmine made itself known he will not be sated.

How wonderful to drop everything that mattered, to succumb to the will that crumbled flat in his face. So much for wanting to surprise people, he managed to surprise himself. His attraction would make sense if Yuuri was an omega, a person to complement his nature, but Yuuri never could even if he was. Yuuri was a spectrum of his own, solitary and standing as his own pillar. Almost selfishly but like himself, could only project his nature in his skating. His unprecedented appearance to Hasetsu Ice Castle almost confirmed the sharp accuracy of his instincts. The woman, Yuko, according to her name tag only pointed to the rink, handing him a pair of ice skates with a wavering, all knowing grin. Makkachin stayed put, almost comprehending his destitution. His need.

And he didn't know what relieved him more, the sight of Yuuri himself, skating to his inner pendulum, or the red mark that still existed on his body. For a few minutes, he lingered and watched, but his scent announced his presence first, betrayed him again when Yuuri suddenly stopped, rigid and aware. He turned, and as if it was that same evening, Yuuri's eyes were on him. The sheen of sweat on his cheek equated to hours of skating, but what struck Viktor most was how utterly dumbfounded Yuuri seemed. Computing that Viktor Nikiforov was indeed in Hasetsu, had his skates on and appeared more than prepared to be company. That evening's blush failed this morning's reddening, invading heat on Yuuri's entire face. He opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again. He said Viktor's name so quietly, almost afraid, tinged with awe, brimming with hesitance. Fear? Those two syllables questioned why he was here, in Yuuri's hometown, in Yuuri's space, his life, unannounced and boldly open.

Viktor only grinned, so unlike his cookie cutter smiles crafted specifically for cameras. And he didn't know why, but he discarded his sweater, and unbuttoned his shirt. Yuuri's scent suddenly flared, strong and telling him to stop. He ignored it and inched his shirt down, the expensive fabric resisting. His own mark, an orange lily, drew a small gasp and a comically widened stare. He exposed himself, the act itself a declaration. Viktor felt it this time.

Freedom. Complete liberation on this ice rink than any other. As soon as it came, the entire air choked him and his sanity. His vision swirled, yet he remained still without collapsing on the ice.

Yuuri's bursts of longing, not carnal desire (Viktor knew the difference), pushed him between the wall and the sword. The delicate flower's aphrodisiac enthralled every fiber of his nature, his body receptive to it all. Words posed on his lips never left, and the entire rink concentrated itself with Yuuri's unspoken confessions. His will as an alpha struggled, but Yuuri only smiled shyly, finally allowing Viktor to look him in the eye.

He wanted confirmation. But the warmth of his lily settled the steadfast heat of panic. Courting an alpha would be different, an unexplored realm. To regard them as an equal, hierarchical dynamics melted into irrelevance.

Yuuri somehow managed to button up Viktor's shirt and gently map his chest with his hands, removing his own sweater and placing it on his shoulders, the jasmine tempting him to do the unspeakable. The size difference struck him when Yuuri's sweater barely covered his arms, but it soothed his body in ways skating never could. He's never been on the end of a romantic gesture, but being loved was, well. Everything.

Everything he hoped life and love would be.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to challenge myself since most of my work is packed with dialogue (it's sad tbh). As for the development of their relationship, I didn't want to focus on the progression, more on Viktor since for some reason, I really struggle writing about him. Anyway, this happens when you listen to Marco Antonio Solis and Beyonce at 3 AM.  
> The word "Yuri" can also mean lily, so that explains that. As for the sunflower, Viktor is his sun, soooo :)
> 
> I'll edit/revise this soon!


End file.
